


The Air Doesn't Talk Back

by siriuslyapple



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dream is in Prison, George misses Dream, Longing, M/M, Tagging is weird, This Is Sad, george feels alone, he's in his mushroom house, im sorry, sapnap if you squint, talking to no one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:22:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslyapple/pseuds/siriuslyapple
Summary: His hand brushed dust off of a cracked picture frame, and he lifted up a photo of him and Dream leaning on each other, laughing uncontrollably at something Sapnap had said. He blinked harshly and he started crying again, tears welling in his dark eyes. That was his Dream, and he was gone.“Why wasn’t I enough?” His voice is broken, the grief coiling around him and suffocating him, tightening in his throat and shattering his heart.George is longing for a love that's been lost.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	The Air Doesn't Talk Back

**Author's Note:**

> This is their SMP characters! If either Dream or George ever state they are uncomfortable with works like this, I will delete it!

Dead leaves rustled under a dusting of snow, cold wind swaying the tree branches. Soft footsteps left gentle imprints in the ground, the only soot remaining from the fire clinging to damp wood. Delicate fingers traced lines in the ashen walls, hot tears sliding down wind nipped cheeks, stinging slightly before dropping onto the ground.

George quietly walked through the ruins of his small house; a home he’d built away from war, a getaway, a safe haven. He could almost hear the crackling fire that had raged through the small building. He could almost feel its heat. He remembered long fingers wrapped around his wrist, tugging him away as he stared wide eyed at the destruction.

He remembered that night when the tall blonde man had bandaged his burned hands, anger simmering under his freckled skin. He had waited until the burns were healed for his explosion. It took 8 hours, with the help of healing potions. 8 hours before the final straws of their life had collapsed. 8 hours before the monster took over the man.

He’d shattered the world after that. He’d exiled and tortured a child. He’d blown up a nation. George had never asked for that, but Dream had always gone too far for George. Boundaries didn’t exist when it came to what he saw as protecting the man he loved. He’d loved him so hard he’d lost him.

His hand brushed dust off of a cracked picture frame, and he lifted up a photo of him and Dream leaning on each other, laughing uncontrollably at something Sapnap had said. He blinked harshly and he started crying again, tears welling in his dark eyes. That was his Dream, and he was gone.

“Why wasn’t I enough?” His voice is broken, the grief coiling around him and suffocating him, tightening in his throat and shattering his heart.

“Why did you leave me? I wish I’d told you how much I loved you when you were by my side. Maybe you wouldn’t have felt the need to love me enough for the both of us. Maybe you wouldn’t have snapped. I’m so sorry, Dream.” He crumpled to the ground, his knees curling into his chest, subtle sobs shaking his body and echoing through his chest. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you. I can’t… I can’t bear to see you like that, caged and mad. I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe. You were trying to take care of me so much, you forgot about yourself.” He slides the sleeves of the yellow hoodie over his hands, burying his face in the faint scent of his life. 

_ ‘Green.’ _ He reminds himself. This hoodie is green. He thinks it’s the same green of Dream’s eyes, but he can’t be sure. When he closes his eyes, the eyes that look back at him are golden, pools of honey gleaming with mischief. 

It had never bothered him that he saw yellow instead of green, until he learned that Dream’s eyes were green. He felt guilty that he couldn’t see his real eye colour, even though it wasn’t his fault. Blue had always been his favourite colour, but he’d never admit that at some point, it had shifted to gold. 

The moon reflects through the crumbling home, refracting on a broken mirror hanging on the wall. He pulled himself off the ground and dragged himself in front of the mirror. He was met with a ghost of himself. His skin was pearly under the moon, but his cheeks were red, and his eyes were wet with despair. Tear stains traced patterns into his face, and his once gleaming eyes had faded into a dull shell. 

The longer he stared, the more he missed his golden haired angel. It had been months since the last time he’d  _ really _ seen him, and that fact broke him. He wondered if Dream missed him as much as he was missed. If he knew that he’d left a splintered soul in his wake of fire. 

“Was it worth it?” His tired voice dropped off his tongue like ice, burning down his throat and relieving his lips. “Was your hour of strength worth a lifetime alone?” His murmur faded to nothing, and he prayed to every god in the sky that it wasn’t. 

He’d likely never hear the answer, so he willed the stars to allow him to believe that Dream regretted it. Dream had lost, but so had George. He could never speak to his love again; these ruins were the closest he could get. He’d whispered into the air, but sound doesn’t carry through miles. 

Maybe one day, the wind would take his words to his lover, but tonight, the air didn’t talk back.


End file.
